The Will of the Gods
by Melodic Shadows
Summary: Originally "Memory". Divine or not, it takes a human to know a human. In the end, the attempts of peace led to nothing more than dragging up repressed memories. The sins of a God that perhaps doesn't understand the human concept of love. Storetry.
1. The Heart of Otanashi

Am I the only one that saw how...cruel...Angel Beats' ending was? Perhaps I'm mistaken, but hopefulyl this drabble/storetry will shed some light onto the subject.

Yes, storetry. It's kind of an experiment to inject poetic verses into scene breaks. Let me know what you guys think.

Enjoy.

~MS

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**The Heart of Otanashi**

Do you know how strange it is, to be the one person amongst the many? To be the only sentient being amongst the seas of students, taking their classes and doing their homework like the good people they are? I suppose its hard to understand the concept of life with no life, but once the idea is understood, you feel all the more alone, the one unique, shining star amongst the tide of templates and molds, defining who you should have been in life.

That's right, should have been. Not like we had much of a choice in life as it was. Here we see normality, the idea of a perfect world. And yet here were were, screwing it up and defying the laws of the world, if only to prolong our own existence. We fought an enemy, the one person that we could only hazard a guess of her intentions. And yet she was marked as one, perhaps not out of spite, but out of direction. Human's need direction, after all.

Why screw up a perfect world, you ask? Everything needs a little chaos, after all. What more do you want after you hear the stories of their previous lives, shunned into dark corners by abusive parents, or perhaps murdered alongside your siblings as your parents were out of town. There are always regrets in life, but is a normal life always the answer? Nobody wants a normal life after such an event. The mere idea of trying to live normally, forgetting all the atrocities against you, accepting a life in a world that you know nothing of...can anyone follow that logic? Every action has a perpetrator, and some acts are so heinous that revenge is inevitable. Such were the factors of reality, things that we simply could not change or understand. I tried to make a difference, and what happened to me? The crash, the pain, the dust and echoes.

And yet, in the end, my fulfillment was achieved. To save a life, to give my existence to another. Did I know who, or why, or how? Perhaps not, but the simple action of my name on a card made all the difference in the world to me. In the end, I was happy. What more did I have to lose?

It was only after I came to the Afterworld that I truly understood how far I could fall.

* * *

><p><em>A God's decree of happiness<em>

_the eternal youth, thirsting _

_for the normalcy of emotion_

_moving on to new frontiers_

_the unfinished vengeance, lying on the table._

* * *

><p>Do you know how strange it feels, for two mutually exclusive lives to exist together in one world? She would not live without my heart, and I could not live without mine. And yet here we were, locked in an embrace that I swore would never end, tears streaming down my face as the sun set behind us. It all felt so real; the flowing waters behind us, the heat of the sun on our backs, her warmth against my chest. But it was her heart, my heart, beating for the both of us as we muttered the only words we could find, our arms getting tighter and tighter with every passing moment. Two hearts cannot beat as one, but perhaps one heart can beat for the both of us.<p>

And in the end, what would any of this matter? Everyone is gone, moved on to the new lives given to them, be it sea barnacles or a resurrection of their mirror image. Perhaps they are there in body, maybe even in personality, but body and looks does not make the person. The loss of the memory is the loss of the person. If she vanishes...she forgets about me. She leaves my heart behind.

I keep wanting to stop her, to stop those words that escape from her lips. But she continues, her gratitude muffled by the uniform I wore. But who was I to say anything about that? My tear-induced babbling was barely coherent as she continued her words, but she paid it no mind. The seconds felt like hours.

No...she takes my heart with her. And she won't even know whose it is.

* * *

><p><em>Look, friend.<em>

_Towards the setting sun,_

_the rays of normalcy gracing your mind and body_

_as you wake from the dream you never had. _

_The memories of evil gone_

_and taken with are the times of happiness_

_laying prone in the wastebaskets of memory._

* * *

><p>She had finally graduated.<p>

Little but my hands and head caught my fall as all the weight, the warmth, the crutch of my entire being, vanished in the blink of an eye. The pain mattered little as my hands instinctively shot outwards, trying to grab onto whatever felt like her, knowing that she couldn't have gone far if I was holding her that tightly...

Whipping my head around, all I could see was the setting sun, and the various students...no, NPC's, playing soccer, and doing their track exercises. Perhaps it's not so bad becoming one of them. After all, they get to see their friends every day, do things together, finish homework, take tests, and play games after school. The life of an NPC seems so amazing.

Were we not nearly the same? Put behind the tragic pasts, and we were just a bunch of friends that hung out, did homework, played games...what made us so different? Why make us leave when they get to stay forever? Call it graduation all you want, but at least alumni get to remember their friends and keep their memories.

Breathing heavily, my head continued its swivel, trying to find some hint, some clue as to where she had gone. The back of my mind immediately knew what happened,d but the rest of my body could nto accept it. My brain could not fathom the logic, my arms could not understand why the warmth was gone. And my heart...well, there was no heart to understand with.

My friends, my love, and my heart, are now gone.

Perhaps Yuri was right. Someone had to build this place. Someone had to give the illusion of normalcy. What kind of sick mind gives the opportunity to make friends, influence a school, and redeem their lost life, only to take it away when peace and acceptance finally set in?

They were gone. Sent off to new lives, with no recollection of the evils they experienced...or the good times that happened.

Look at me, God. Look at me, and realize what your world has done. Arriving, I was a lost soul without memory. And now I leave without a heart.

And in the end, what changed? Friends that stood by my side no longer walked these cobblestone steps, cracking wise jokes about the most recent prank that we pulled. NPC's will go about their daily lives like nothing happened. But perhaps most of all...they wont' remember. None of them will.

At least there was a chance in my life. Perhaps there, someone remembers me as the guy that saved lives when the train met its untimely end. Perhaps there I'm known for something, that my name will live on for some reason.

But here? Nothing. All that happened will suddenly be as if nothing happened. My friends, my family...Kanade. All of it. Soon to be nothing but dust in the wind, kicked up and away to be needlessly discarded.

How cruel is it, God, to finally find your goal, your meaning in life, only to have it viciously ripped away from your hands?

I think you should know; you've done it to me once already.

You think you're saving me, doing this? Forcing me to part with my goal, after working so hard to achieve it? Months, years of work...in both worlds! Only to be torn away by your ridiculous transcendence. And what did I accomplish here, if I do not remember? What does it matter, if I have a good life here, or a bad life there? None of it will be remembered, as I transfer to a new life of sin.

But what do I have the right to complain about? I'm no God, after all.

I will vanish. But not for your petty reasons. My heart is out there somewhere, and I will find it. That is my vengeance to you, for offering me a false illusion of peace, and yanking it away to throw me back into the harsh realities once more. So I swear to you, God. My heart is out there somewhere, and I will find it, and my memory, once more.

* * *

><p><em>The heart of a man<em>

_in the body of an angel._

_Two souls, one world_

_this new body is not my own_

_but with mind and soul_

_I will find my Angel's beat._

* * *

><p>The echoing scream hung in the air like a final crescendo, and though several students turned to investigate the source of the sound, they found nothing but the flowing fountain and the sunset beyond.<p>

Unbeknownst to them, a single star rose high above the Afterworld, shining in the evening sky as if it were one last act of defiance, before blinking out of existence.

_I will find you, Kanade. I will find you again._

* * *

><p><strong>Story end. <strong>


	2. The Eyes of Kanade

To be alone, amongst a crowd...imagine that.

I leave you to read.

~MS

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**The Eyes of Kanade**

* * *

><p>Is is that wrong? To desire a simple 'thank you' for the person that saved my life?<p>

I suppose being granted the opportunity for this request is a miracle in itself, but in comparing myself to the others people brought here, my life was never one of suffering. My family and friends were always around, my life was constant and steady, and through the occasional bump in the road got in the way, nothing was ever to the point of making want to simply end it all.

Perhaps it was when I stopped smiling. Perhaps it was when I ceased my tears of sadness, or gracing others with laughter. I'm not sure; how does one know when they're simply not there anymore? As an emotionless husk in the face of the overwhelmingly negative odds of survival, I never really stopped hoping for something to change in my favor. But at the same time, I never really hoped.

Perhaps all I felt was the breeze of time, passing me by.

Oh, please don't get me wrong, even after the diagnosis I was never really alone. Friends and family were still abundant at my hospital bedside, and the nurses were very kind. But there was...something different. They say sickness is a physical barrier between the species, and perhaps that's what I saw firsthand.

It was their eyes. It's always their eyes; that's the easiest way to read the intentions of somebody. And whenever they came to visit, their eyes always portrayed a different story, something they never showed before the incident. I suppose I can't blame them, considering the circumstances. I probably would have done the same thing in their place...seeing somebody lying on a thick white mattress, countless machines hooked to different portions of their body. It's like you're looking at another person entirely.

But I wasn't in their place, to judge like that. I was in mine.

I suppose there's nothing wrong with sympathy. Humans know when another one of their kind is hurting. It's only natural to wonder 'Just what would I do in this position?' You can't help but feel sad, to feel that they're wronged in some way, scorned by a higher power, or perhaps targeted for amusement. A friend of mine told me that once, that God's comedy was the human sickness. Liven things up with a little death. It was pretty logical to think of it like that.

Of course, that was before God chose me as his punching bag.

* * *

><p><em>The body, the mind, the everlasting goal<em>

_golden eyes, hiding colorless souls_

_drained by the unhearing empath_

_watching the western sunrise._

* * *

><p>The therapy started even before the search for doners did. I guess my reaction to the fact that my heart was inoperable was not consistent with most others. Did they expect me to cry, to deny the fact of the matter? To reach out to my friends in support, hoping from some optimistic miracle?<p>

Perhaps I was a pessimist, but realistically, what would that have accomplished? Nothing changed about me, right? Reality rarely backs down; I just had a heart defect. My friends would still treat me the same, my family would still be there, and all I would have to do is get a transplant...and then everything would be fine...Right?

Suffice to say, reality lost this fight.

Do you know how it feels, to see the eclipse of the human soul? The inky blackness that comes from nowhere, blotting out the bright light that you came to know and love? Suddenly, that person isn't who they were before. It's difficult to even call them by name, they change so drastically. And you know what's scary? It's the subtle things. The shifting of their eyes, the stutter as they try to talk about normal things as I lay in the hospital bed.

Again, it's their eyes. For some reason, people think their eyes are a secure zone, belonging only to them. But I can see it, their pupils as they dilate at the amount of wires I have in me. Their lids shifting to each and every stitch, all the monitors, all the charts...

And then they focus on me. And all I can see is sympathy.

Is it wrong to deny that, thought? Sympathy is natural, but receiving it isn't. I want to tell him that I'm fine, that it's just a stage in my life that I'll overcome. But the people that came to visit me were no longer those that I played with and had fun with during my early years. All they could see is the woman hooked to the machines, the poor girl who does nothing but suffer, and not me, Tachibana Kanade. Suddenly to them, I'm a different person, someone to tread on the thinnest of ice with, as if one word could break me into a thousand pieces. It's completely illogical; if a heart defect has not broken me, how could a few simple words?

They saw my body, but they could not see the withering soul that lay within. Perhaps that's all they wanted to see; the hurting girl laying there, and not the person, the now-alienated soul that lay within.

Perhaps it wasn't my heart that died on that day.

* * *

><p><em>The smiles, the tears<em>

_the husk on the bed-frame_

_the body of metal and machine_

_the soul of innocence undisturbed_

* * *

><p>One life, for two days.<p>

I didn't know his name, and I didn't know how he died. But the doctors say he died a hero, and I was to receive his heart. They said I was going to live. A full recovery, and aside from some anti-rejection drugs, was going to be able to live a normal life. I could go back to being Tachibana Kanade, and not a husk of suppressed emotions. Perhaps then my family and friends will revert to their normal selves...perhaps they will see Tachibana Kanade once more. I was...optimistic.

I don't know why I was so positive all of a sudden, to be honest. I tried to put the logic I used before to the situation; it's just somebody who unfortunately passed, who happened to be an organ doner. What did it matter? He died, and I was going to live. That was the logic, the simple fact of things. And yet...I wanted to learn more.

"Actions speak louder than words." Perhaps that's why this person interest me so much. All this time, I've heard only words, empty comforts from people who cannot understand what it means to have your life taken from you.

But...this person has to know different, doesn't he? He understood his sacrifice as a doner, he understood the action he was about to take. The _action_, not just some words that will be lost to the wind in the passing of mere minutes.

Strange. He's never met me...heck, he'll never _know _me, but perhaps he understood me the most.

Optimism...what could go wrong?

* * *

><p><em>A prayer, a God, a silent hope<em>

_above and beyond the talking heart_

_beating for one life, for two_

_to see them all throughout._

* * *

><p>Reality won. It always does.<p>

Six hours after the operation, there was an erratic beeping at my left. Eight hours after, my vision was obscured by shouting nurses, only catching phrases of rejection and critical condition. Twelve hours later, twice as many machines were hooked to my body, the sound of electrical appliances being the only thing ringing within my ears.

Twelve more hours passed with wide-eyed family and friends. They looked so...alien. Their wide eyes, the tears that adorned their faces...somehow, they were far from the people I once knew.

It's strange. Being alone in a crowded room, surrounded by the faces you should recognize. But all I saw were strangers of another world, staring into the soulless body of what I once was.

For some reason, all I could think of was the person that saved me. What was he like? What happened to him that made him an organ doner? Thinking about it, I never knew him, but...his action, his sacrifice, and now the physical manifestation of his heart...I was closer to this man than any of the teary-eyed faces surrounding me.

Perhaps I'll get to meet him, wherever I'm going...

Immediately, that thought was brushed aside. This is..._was_...his heart. There's no way for either of us to exist together. One life needs the other, for one to survive. There's no way...

….is there?

* * *

><p><em>The perfect human<em>

_the epitome of order and justice_

_can be called no human_

_without the affinity of sin._

* * *

><p>The afterworld was strange. It gave off the odd feeling of complete security, despite the fact I knew nothing about the place, nor any of the people there. They treated me like they knew me as age old friends, and for some reason it seemed to me that I knew them as well.<p>

Of course, I didn't. And heck, I probably would have taken them in as friends. After all, NPC's are supposed to be the model student, the perfect 'human being' despite not being one. But that was exactly it, how can you act like a perfect human when you aren't human in the first place?

It's their eyes. Just like my family, it was their eyes. But this was nothing like my family in that there was the _wrong_ emotion there, per say. There was simply no emotion at all. Of course, they acted like it, joking alongside their classmates, but there was nothing resembling the mirth of an indirect joke, or the rage of a bad test. Their faces acted it, but...their eyes. It's always their eyes.

So, I stayed away. There was nothing much else to do. Without much thought, I took my classes, going through each monotonous day like nothing ever happened. What more could I do? I was stuck in a world with...with nothing. Just the memories of my life, and the one thought of the boy that tried to save me.

* * *

><p><em>My treasure his<em>

_the body of life._

_His treasure mine_

_the soul of empathy_

_the bonding of body and soul_

_in transcended matrimony._

* * *

><p>Of course we can't die now, it's the afterworld. But that didn't stop the stinging pain of the bullet that entered my leg. Funny, how one can fire gunshots on a campus of supposed humans, and their reaction is to perceive it as normal activity. They're even farther from normal humans than I thought.<p>

It's a painful realization, to know why you're here in the afterworld. Of course, eventually the will to have company, to not be alone, finally overcame me, and I befriended someone who seemed to recently 'transfer' here. She was a gently sort, kind of like me. Neither of us were big speakers, but there was a...relative comfort, in knowing that there was another human in the legions of 'students' in this school.

And yet...one day, she vanished. No trace of her could be found. Daring myself to even ask the other 'students' of her disappearance, their knowledge of her was completely gone. Like she never existed.

And so it happened, twice more. Once, with a loudmouthed tomboy who arrived with the horrible memories of kidnapping, and another, a girl shunned by her family for merely loving another. All people I could, to a certain extent, relate to, living normally and happily...before they finally vanished, leaving no trance of their existence. It was then I realized the true meaning of this place.

Everyone here...everyone has a regret. Everyone has some horror story to share, some terrible tragedy that was bestowed upon them. They played God's game, and lost. So what is my tragedy? The heart condition?

No, that doesn't make sense. Thousands of people are diagnosed with things like that, and yet there are not thousands of 'people' here. It's scary to know you're here because of some injustice in your life, but have no idea as to what that injustice was.

Perhaps I was merely alone. Since the day I was diagnosed with my heart condition, I was by myself. Even here, fighting against this 'Battlefront', I am alone, trying to show everyone the meaning of this place. The eyes of those in the Battlefront are...different, yes. So why do they remind me of the eyes at my hospital bedside?

Of course. They don't understand. They don't' see me, they just see 'Angel'. I'm not sure where they got that misnomer, but that's definitely not me. And there's no way for me to explain it to them.

Perhaps its my emotionless expression? I suppose that makes sense; Angels aren't supposed to have human emotions. Otherwise...they'd be human. But why show any reaction to those that simply can't understand? It feels no different from my time in the hospital.

Perhaps they want peace. That's all this place is about. The chance at a normal life of jokes and pranks during high school. Is it all so bad?

I...suppose it is. All they seem to want is revenge against those who oppressed them. And can I blame them? No. But there's nothing they can do here...their time has come and gone. Even here, a new chapter has opened for them.

….So why am I still here? My one regret...what was that?

Ah, of course...him. I...I want to see him. I want to thank him.

But if he lived a fulfilled life...what becomes of me?

Am I...here forever?

* * *

><p><em>A paradise lost<em>

_with the attainment of equality_

_the balance of order and chaos_

_granting human perfection._

* * *

><p>He...he loves me.<p>

Me.

Perhaps it's still alien to me...well, being me. So long I've been seen as something I'm not. A women attached to machines. An angel bent on...bent on what? I don't know.

But I'm finally me. I can finally be the person I should have been this whole time.

It's strange, to be honest. Were it not for his heart...I would never have known about him. And yet here he is, without a heart of his own, his heart inside me...him loving _me._ Not my...not his heart, not my image, but me.

Me.

It's strange, having to say goodbye after just saying hello. But here we are, at the base of the stairs, living through the best and worst case scenario, all at once.

He's crying. How I hate seeing him like this...and knowing that I'm the cause of it. My heart yearns to stay with him, but...no. Not my heart. His heart. His heart wants to stay with him.

But...so do I. Two lives, one heart. Is that so bad?

No...there's no way. Throughout this whole ordeal, he dared to befriend me, dared to accompany me on trips, _dared_ to _not_ be my enemy. And here we are, locked in an embrace that I don't want to end.

He's saying my name. _My_ name. Not just some girls', not the 'person' who now houses his heart. My name, Tachibana Kanade...my name. He sees me, and nothing else.

Hah...his actions were what drew me to him. And now words will force us apart once again.

Am I fulfilled? Merely saying 'thank you'? How can I be fulfilled when there is so much more to say? There's more to a human than peace; no order and peace an exist without a bit of chaos an insecurity. No wonder the battlefront was so successful, it gave this world exactly what it needed. Chaos.

And yet, the moment we reach a point where fulfillment comes in, when love arises...suddenly, all is drawn to shadow.

No. I am not fulfilled. I love him, I love Yuzuru Otanashi. And yet, love isn't a fulfillment in this world. There is no clause in the contract allowing such emotions here. Yet...is that not what makes the human, human? Is that not why we're sent here, to experience peace, joy, and...love?

Why? Why must this happen? Here I am, fulfilled only to my mind's content and not my hearts, 'ready' to vanish to another life. And in the end, what changed? I know what the optimist would say...finally getting to meet the person that tried to save me, huh? That's what mattered coming to this world.

Wrong.

Sure, in the end, I was once again surrounded by my friends, but leading up to this too-short moment were the very circumstances my life was surrounded by. The battlefront were friends that couldn't see me, Yuzuru still oblivious as to the life he saved. And even now, now that he knows, it doesn't' matter. For within a matter of seconds...nothing will matter.

Why, God? You take me from my life, only to put me into a different basin, with the same filthy water. You tried to make it better...Maybe you did. But nothing changed. Nobody still saw me until the very end. And by then, it was too late.

And I can do nothing but accept it.

Thank you, Yuzuru...for what it's worth. Thank you for loving me. For giving me life, even for the briefest of times. For seeing me as me. But just as my life was only saved for a matter of moments in my previous life...it seems fate has a way of repeating itself.

I'm only alive with you. And yet, its only moments before we die that we truly live.

I hope to meet you again. If only to prove God wrong. I...I want to live. I want to live in a world with you.

A tiny smile appeared on my face as I said my last thank you...my last goodbye.

Up for another game, God?

* * *

><p><em>Torn from peace<em>

_a new life begins_

_memories forgotten_

_a new life of sins._

* * *

><p>His scream, that scream that made me cringe in guilt, was cut off abruptly. The tears in my eyes vanished, my arms were circling nothing, and my legs were no longer on the brick walkway.<p>

An accepting death is still a death, and offered no forgiveness, no ending echo to my love's scream. Cut off and gagged, my peaceful world was torn from me, and I knew nothing more.


	3. The Agony of Yui

To grant the glimpse of what you can't have...is it a treasure? Or a taunt?

Something to consider.

* * *

><p><strong>Yui's Agony<strong>

Should I be happy, for this kind of opportunity? Should I be thankful that I had regrets, that I was able to free myself from the confines of those white sheets, to move and meet and live freely, even if only for the few weeks I was there?

I suppose everyone thinks in the short term. That their days spent in an innocent harmony would never end. But in the end, the long term that seemed so far away is suddenly in our faces, demanding the coin flip that changes everything about us. I know firsthand, after all. All it took was one person's rush to work, one red light, and one sound of screeching metal and soothing blackness for the short term to be an infinite term.

None of them can really understand, but...I suppose I can't understand everything about them either. They're not me, and I'm not them. But to say I've had it worse than them? Some of them definitely not...but many of the people out there, attending classes and getting to live their lives the way they want to? I think it's safe for me to say yes.

Dont' get me wrong, many of us have been in situations where we lack power. Where it feels like we can do nothing to change the outcomes of what transpires before us, be it abusive parents, ignorant lovers, heartless killers, or car accidents. Just because the means to change it were present didn't mean they had the power or bravery to accomplish it. Sure, we imagine ourselves being the hero in such situations, but when push comes to shove, we find ourselves huddled in the corner, the prison of our minds our only shelter.

But...at least they had the freedom to have that choice.

Of course I was alone. Having family around counts, but when the mother that spends her time performing my basic tasks, things I should be capable of doing, has no time for motherly things...what else can I feel? There was a world outside, a world full of friends and adventures to be had, where education and miracles happen every day.

And all I had was the four-walled world of whitewash, the black box at the far edge of the room my only portal to this alternate dimension of coexistance.

* * *

><p><em>A world in a world<em>

_the unseen piano keys_

_play a tune, heartwarming_

_spreading through the concert hall_

_blocked by the confines_

_of the windowed box_

_sitting on the living room shelf._

* * *

><p>I'm sure you can imagine how much of a shock it was to suddenly wake up on a cold stone floor, staring not at the same old ceiling, but an endless sea of stars. It made no sense then, and even now I probably wouldn't be able to give you an accurate reason why I woke up there. All I know is that I did. My surroundings were different, my clothes were different..hell, the entire world was different. I coudln't tell if this was a blessing or a curse.<p>

It must have been a blessing. The way Hinata found me, he probably passed me off as a madwoman in the streets, flailing about like a physopath possessed. Considering he knew nothing about me at the time, I suppose his reaction was understandable. Apparently it's not everyday the newly dead come into a new world smiling and laughing.

Of course, the usual reaction one might expect hit me, it just happened later on. After all, one had to ask; what miracle allowed me to finally move and be free like everyone else? And the answer was the worst case scenario. It always seemed to be that way.

Oh, you're wondering how I died, right? I'm not entirely sure myself...one day I was there, and the next I was here. There was no constant beepign of medical machines, or a dramatic race to the hospital amidst the shouts of doctors. There's no way for me to know, simply because I don't know. Let's just leave it at that.

Perhaps it was because I was always alone. After all, there's no place to go when you're rooted to the thin white sheets covering your body. Friends cannot visit if you've never made any, and family can only be so supportive before you can recognize every facial feature, every tiny weight in each syllable they speak. Eventually they're only there to be there, they do things because they must. Time fades even the strongest of heartbeats, after all.

Is it possible, to die of loneliness? Perhaps the body cannot be afflicted...but the heart and soul, that make the human?

My body was useless anyway. Perhaps my heart and soul were all that needed to die.

* * *

><p><em>Submerged in black, torn from life<em>

_released from the white chains_

_and forced into the erethral_

_the mandatory utopia_

_acceptance of light_

_lest one embrace the shadows._

* * *

><p>I felt like an outsider for the longest time, here. After all, a happy spirit surrounded by the souls of misery would feel alienated, no matter how human it may feel to be..normal. But everyone here was far from normal. They had their demosn, their terrible pasts to contend with, and memories that haunted their every waking moment. And here I was, with a workign body once more, living with my own freedoms, over my own terms. Where I saw the green grass and prismed skies, they only saw the bleak grays of sorrow and vengeance against the powers that tortured their young lives.<p>

It was pretty easy to see, after all. There had to be a reason I was still alive after death. Was this all a vision? Some way to give us peace before moving on to the bleak, everlasting darkness? The only way I was similar to these people was in my confusion. After all, there's no such thing as a miracle. Otherwise, we'd all still be alive and happy in the living world.

I suppose thats why I didn't get along with many of them at first. With nothing to do beforehand, ther were so many things I wanted to do, so many places I wanted to see. Even the trips to and fro the many buildings at this school were enjoyment to my weary feet. Any kind of activity was fair game, but I guess you could say I had my own personal agenda. They didnt' like that much, and I suppose I can't blame them.

Call me a masochist, but annoying them was pretty fun. Eventually I was accepted as part of a diversionary squad, helping out the 'school band'. It was then that I picked up the guitar and allowed my upper body to finally do some work. But even then I would hang out with the main division, bugging everyone I could come across. Was it mean? Nah, not really; I think they realized it was all in good fun. Heck, even Hinata had traces of a smile on his face as he put me into a flawless German Suplex. Knowing my body could bend in such ways was exhausting, painful and strangely enlightening all at the same time.

They were annoying, and they ignored me sometimes. But these guys...they were family. They accepted me.

I'm fine with that.

* * *

><p><em>The joy, the feeling, the curve of the lips<em>

_echoing heels in the school halls_

_ignored by those trapped_

_the confines of the mind_

_their televised eyes, unseeing_

_to the truths of oblivion._

* * *

><p>I'm not as dense as they think, you know. Sure, I always put on the posture of the hyperactive one, but what did you expect after my previous life?<p>

Previous life...it feels so strange to call it that. So many of the others refer to their 'previous lives', citign their tragedies, the stories that brought them to this palce. Sure, you can see that thirst for vengeance in thier eyes as they go about their activities against Angel...but how much of it is really vengeance? Their previous life...is a life that has ended. They're trying to put it behind them, but can't.

It's understandable. They left with nothing, and arrived here with nothing. Even now, they feel oppressed and trapped by the dieties that brought them here, forced to remember their past memories, coerced into accepting them and moving on instead of simply forgetting. That feels like a torture in it's own right. We speak of forgive and forget, but what's the point in forgiving if the atrocty committed is ripped from your memories?

That's all this vanishing is. A lure to an illusory utopia, the bait on the fishing rod. And the moment people like Iasawa grab it, you're suddenly ripped from a world where the tiniest things may go _right_ and are forced back into the real world.

But I'm not a part of this story. I didn't come here with burdens crushing me to the tile floor. If anything, my time here was nothing but joy from the very moment my arms and legs responded to every command I gave them.

Perhaps that's why i don't fit in. Perhaps that's why others see me differently.

So what am I here for?

* * *

><p><em>The piano rings through the bar<em>

_as patrons sip thier frothy drinks_

_the chatter fills the air_

_white noise, an unseen channel_

_blurring the picture you never saw._

* * *

><p>It was scary, to be honest. I didn't <em>want<em> to leave at all. To have friends, to have a body that works...why would anyone want to leave? This was no utopia, this was a world where I was granted what everyone else had. A chance to meet, to laugh, to _live_. Was I anymore alive lying motionless on a bed than I was the moment my heart beat it's last? Was I any different as my still form stared at the passing images of the television, watchign those that had their advantage, their _right_ to a life use it? Of course, I cannot blame them for having what they should have. But who do I blame for denying me mine?

I don't watn to return. What would be the point? This is a world where I can _live_, and dying...dying would be going back. Dying would be returning to the shell of immobility, the white-cotton prison, the reflection of impossibilities. Perhaps the others have something to look foward to..a new life to go foward with. But me? Bedridden, immobile, and...alone? I can't. I just can't.

And then he came along. Telling me to expect a baseball through my window...to expect him. Him at my door, apologizing for the broken window. Him, who came to visit every week, fixing the window, then every day just to talk and keep my company. Him, who took the initiative to buy a wheelchair with his own funds and take me out into the heart of the city, to see what was once blocked by the reflective glass of a television screen.

Him.

Would it happen? Who knows...forgive and forget, remember? What's to say I'll remember this heartfelt promise? What's to say he'll accept the crippled me? Despite the company, it would only be company...I wouldn't be able to do anything for him. Just sit in a wheelchair as he talks, makes me laugh, makes me cry...and what would I do?

Perhaps...perhaps I don't have to do anything. Even if I couldn't move...I wouldn't be alone. That's all that matters, right?

My body may die from the very beginning...but at least my heart and soul would have something to live for.

Living...heh. Perhaps it's not all so bad.

I'll go by myself...even if I'm scared of dying again. I have to...after all. I need to wait for him. Wait for that ball to come crashing through my window.

Please, God...please let me remember. Let me remember what it means to live, body, heart, and soul. Otherwise...otherwise...what was the point in coming here?

You want us to heal? Let us forgive. Let us forgive, and never forget what happened. The bads of happenstances, and all that made it right again.

Otherwise...there was no forgiveness at all.

* * *

><p><em>Time changes, ebbs and flows<em>

_changing body, mind and soul._

_Always remember, never forgetting_

_body pains, tears of mind, strength of soul_

_imprints on the new generation._

_Always remember. _

_Always remember._

* * *

><p>"Are you sure, Hinata?" Otanashi asked, breaking the almost ethereal silence.<p>

For a while, the co-leader of the Battlefront stood silently, watching the clouds float lazily amongst the setting sun. Slowly, his head lowered, staring almost longingly at the now-empty helmet and baseball bat in front of him.

"She's gone." He finally muttered. "She's gone...but I'll remember."

"There's no gaurentee-"

"Maybe not." Hinata interrupted. "But it gave her hope. If I don't hope too..what was the point?"

Otanashi nodded. "Dont' forget, Hinata. Never forget."

Hinata looked back up to the setting sun, watching it vanish beyond the mountains. Perhaps there was no guarentee Yui would remember him. There was no guarentee he would remember her, either.

Sure, he couldn't see her now...but perhaps he would once again, recognizing her and the days they spent here. She was his sun, setting and vanishing for a short while, only to reappear once more, gracing him and the world with it's warmth once again.

"Never forget, huh..." Turning back, Hinata gave a grin to Otanashi.

"Leave it to me."

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter End.<strong>


	4. The Shadows of Yuri

Darkness...the indiscriminate enemy.

I leave you to read.

~MS

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**Yuri's Shadows**

I can already see the sympathetic eyes that you're about to give me. But don't' bother. I've seen them before, and yet look at me now, where I am, where I stand. Those eyes...those eyes can look into the soul, and the eyes that cannot see beyond the skin on my face...both accomplish the exact same thing. That ship has come and gone. And all that's left on the dock for me to use are the tools of vengeance.

I wasn't sure anyone could relate to me first. After all, I'm the leader of this front, I've heard every story and every hardship my teammates...my friends have gone through. So no, they can't really relate to my early life.

It was perfect, after all. I don't' expect them to. And they don't either.

Rich parents, large house, siblings that were kind, and never fought...you could honestly say I had the good life. I never really considered myself greedy or selfish; my siblings came first for everything. I was the oldest, so that was natural; I had to protect them and help them. If there was one great hardship during those early years, it was the fact that my parents weren't home much. Being rich had its price, after all, as most of their time was spent out in the field, doing expensive research for some expensive company. What mattered was they weren't home a lot, and that did hurt.

Honestly though, I was fine with that. I was never alone after all, my siblings were my charge, as well as my company. I was happy then, and happy when my parents were home. Nothing to worry about, right?

Some say the punishment comes first to the perfect. I only wish I heard this saying before my life went straight to hell.

* * *

><p><em>The clear blue skies, the everlasting sunrise<em>

_shining in the urban greens_

_cannot dispel the shadows made_

_to linger, the darkness of reality_

_covered by the topical beauty_

_of the nature we so love._

* * *

><p>I suppose you could say our family was religious. We weren't devout, but there were always the little things: giving our thanks for the meals on our plates, occasional prayers at our bedside, bathed in the moonlight, and occasional church visits when our parents weren't out in the field. God was in our lives, but did not control them. I was fine with that, what else could I have thought at such a young age? I didn't want anybody I couldn't see controlling what I did. It was tough enough having my parents control my life, one more person didn't sound that appealing.<p>

Of course, I was met with correcting words whenever I voiced this in the open. Nothing to get me in trouble, mind you, but there was always the constant reminder that God is watching. The observer of all, the omniscient, the omnipotent. He could hear, he could see, he could offer advice through his texts. That's what I learned.

It is only now that I realize that those traits are useless at stopping tragedy.

Me? I think he could have stopped it. He goes on about how _all-powerful _he is, after all. For whatever the reason, however, he did not.

God wasn't there to tell the bad men to leave. God wasn't there to convince those robbers to put their guns down, to see the error of their ways and repent. God definitely didn't help me find where my parent's valuables were, so I could save my family. And he surely didn't mind watching as my siblings were murdered in cold blood.

So what did we do wrong, God? Was there too much happiness in our little family? Were we sheltered too much, shoved into the back corner of reality, unable to see what lay in front of us? By no means were we unfaithful, but by no means did we deserve what happened!

You showed us reality. And now they'll never get to see it. Now all I see is the darkened sky. That ray of hope, that one piece of optimism that kept me going? Gone. All thanks to you.

Square one, God. Square one.

_The light, the guiding path_

_covered in moss and gravel_

_obscured to the blind, the weak_

_who follow the rails of safety._

You think that was bad? Well, you're right. Nothing much tops being one of the reasons your innocent siblings are dead, with gaping holes in their heads. The images of blood, soaking the refined carpet floor, their faces still wide with terror, frozen from their last moments, staring across the room into the nothingness that awaited them, unawares of the bullets about to ruin their lives for good. They never knew the sound of the gunshot, they never knew the reason of the invasion...all they knew was to stay put, to wait for the big sister to fix this.

And I failed.

The weeks after the incident I spent confined within my room, silent as the statues atop our grand church. I can't even tell you how many plates of food were left to deteriorate outside my bedroom door. What did it matter? No matter what I ate, or when I chose to do it, it left me all too quickly, one way or another. My room was no solace, the food unimportant. All that could be seen was that that would never be in front of me again.

Counseling? If that were a joke, I'd be laughing right now. Tell you what, God. Give me a counselor that can bring my siblings back. Give me some damn religious confessions that doesn't only serve to relive those painful memories once more, leaving you screaming for mercy, mercy from a God that did nothing to prevent.

Remember Eve, God? Remember the supposed sin she committed, aided by the serpentine malice that resided in your utopic garden? Remember her innocence in the matter? Strange, that the snake, the catalyst of realistic atrocities, still slithers about in your utopic paradise, preying on those who may place the slightest of trust in his words. Is it wrong to trust others, God? What if they force themselves upon you? Thrust their way in, insisting their way is right, forcing their ideals, their methodologies onto us, without a say from the people that are being afflicted? Do they matter at all?

Of course not. For it wasn't the snake in the grass that was banished, but the catalyst of innocent trust.

Were we Eve? Were we the symbolism of perfection, destined for an atrocity brought about by the overly trusting methodologies we were raised upon? Love thy neighbor...love thy neighbor to death.

Perhaps you meant that literally.

* * *

><p><em>And who do I kill<em>

_with the broad end of my blade?_

_the man in the cage_

_or the beast that never became?_

* * *

><p>Five days. Six hours. Twenty seven minutes, thirty-four seconds. Yes, time moves at a snails pace when all but the tears on your face stop. The days and nights melded together into a cacophony of light and noise, the cars passing by invisible to the eyes that can no longer see outward.<p>

They say time is a human concept, created to understand and discern the passing days. Of course, anything made by humans is open to interpretation, and as such, time does not pass the same for those around me. And here I am, not gauging the passing of human time by the minutes on the bedroom clock, but the coming and passing of the suns rays, blending together into a countless, messy conglomeration of days and weeks.

Who knows how much time has passed? The passing of the suns is as frequent as the knocks at my door, the meals left untouched within the bedroom hallway. And as time passed, the meals rotted, and the sun accomplished its westward journey again and again, my eyes stayed their course, standing alone in the mirrors of pastime, the haunting visions of my family's lifeblood staining the window to the future.

And yet here I am. Unseeing, unmoving, unwilling to go forward. Still living, still breathing. Somehow.

Darkness surrounds me once again; I've lost count as to how many times it's happened. But this time, something was wrong. The nights were always slow to approach, with the sun slowly sinking across the western horizon, teasing us with its final rays of light before plunging the world into total darkness. The guardian, leaving its pupils to fend for themselves in the cold.

No, this was no taunting sunset. The blackness approached all too quickly, a pressuring void that sucked my very breath and vision away from me. My unseeing eyes were blinded, breath taken from my soulless body, and all I could hear was frantic sobbing as my head was thrashed up and down.

_'So, this is what it's like to die.'_

the pressure was released, but only for a moment, and my eyes broke free from their spiritual cage to see the teary eyed corpse of my mother, an overstuffed pillow for a coffee promotion held in her trembling hands.

_'Or is this just the final step in the process?'_

My vision was obstructed once more, and after several minutes, the instinctual, bodily will to survive finally gave way to everlasting darkness.

* * *

><p><em>To sleep, to wake<em>

_a given world for the unlucky' sake_

_given the choice, to live or to vanish_

_to be the setting sun, lower once, be banished._

* * *

><p>I'm alive.<p>

It's like waking up from a dream. The feeling of independence, the rush of normalcy, all too much to take, at first. Of course, I didn't know this was the Afterworld. It felt like reality, the world that should have been here once I woke up from the terrible nightmare.

Of course, that bloodstained window was never cleaned. Dreams may haunt the mind, but none can chill the very soul to its core in this such way. It was these past memories that spurred me to move forward.

But to what? I knew nothing of this world, and those around me knew just as much. It was a school, I was a student. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. Ask them how they got here, and you'd hear everything from scholarships to parental funding. The stories were normal, but the circumstances surreal.

The thought of suicide never occurred to me, but in the early days of the Afterworld, I certainly tried it. The tallest of gym buildings were easy to access, and the subsequent drop completely unnoticed by the students milling about. Apparently it was normal to them for a teenage girl to hurl herself off of a building to her...second death.

Four times, I've tried. Four deaths, four visions of blissful darkness And each time I was greeted by the calming void with open arms, only to be forced awake by some 'divine' magic, back into the confines of my body. Freedom from self mutilation was out of the question.

And so 'life' went on. Around me these unfamiliar students went to classes and did their homework. I quickly became accommodated with what seemed like the sole vacant room on the premises; the principles office. Where was he? For all the time spent here, there was never a mention of him.

His office was large, furnished, and quiet, making it a fine place to get away from the confusion and awkward conversations with non-humans. Without so much as a peep of protest this office turned into my home. And as the weeks went by, it turned into the headquarters we grew to love.

It was strange, creating the brigade. There came a time when more and more people came through, their emotions and thoughts flowing like the river rapids, from confusion to anger to the purest intentions of vengeance. Some were more angry than others, some said no words. In the end, we were all the same; lost and without a purpose, trapped in a dead world with students who never experienced life.

One thing was agreed upon, however. Of all the hatred, of all the desires for vengeance, there was none stronger than mine. And that was why they saw me as their leader. I was the one with the most experience, I was the one that knew this strange world the most, and I was the one that wanted to put my foot into God's ass the most.

There were doubts, of course. Was I ready to lead? Was I even capable of leading this ragtag group of misfits, not ready for the rebirth into a world that never accepted us in the first place? These thoughts plagued my sleep for the passing weeks, filled with uncertainty and thoughts of failure.

But those thoughts never came to reality. Those that looked up to me stayed loyal, and I was left leading the group of misfits caught in this purgatory world. But as time passed, and the days grew shorter and shorter with the passing of every sunrise, they became less and less of what I could call comrades with a purpose. Their safety, their well being, were less and less of my chore, and more of my responsibility.

It was foreign, at first. This feeling of...of what? Selflessness? That feeling you get, to protect everyone dear to you?

...Dear to me. That was it. They were no longer comrades, because they were my friends. They were the family I lost.

They were people I loved.

And now I could protect them.

* * *

><p><em>The shadow, so large<em>

_but tis' not his body_

_the gun rests on its back_

_waiting to cue it's masters bidding._

* * *

><p>Things are not as they seem. They never are.<p>

God's emissary, the Angel that caused us so much trouble, was nothing more than a human, just like us. The fear of vanishing that the brigade held so dear was nothing more than an escape from this cursed world.

But the worst was yet to come. From nowhere, a new foe assailed us, and threatened to take away the meager peace that we managed to develop in the new world. It took the 'death' of a comrade, Takamatsu, for us to realize the true threat that this presented.

He was like me. He was like all of us. And now, he was nothing like us at all. Sitting at his desk, acting like all of the other miserable drones here, going about their daily 'lives' without a care in the world. His memories of the revolution, the brigade, and his friends, now all but a distant memory.

What was I to say, to comfort the rest of the brigade? To help them deal with this new threat? My job is to protect them, to keep them safe from this new danger. But what brought this on? Why must we now be under assault from what seemed yet another of God's creations? Darkness, shadows, devouring memories and souls, turning us to mindless husks.

Is that not truly death?

My questions led me underground, into the heart of what was once an allied stronghold. Deep within the aging rocks and the time-whethered sands, a simple building stood. It was clearly not built by human hands, the metalwork merging itself seamlessly with the rocky outcroppings in the cavern. A sign sat atop the gleaming metal door: Second Computer Lab.

Silently opening the door, the sights of my submachine gun were quickly locked to my eyes, aimed outward at a single man, sitting at a computer table. His glasses reflected the light from the hundreds-no, thousands of monitors that lined the walls. For a while, I stood there, and he sat there, and we did nothing but stare; he with an indifferent smile, me with a pertinent scowl.

And then he spoke. It was calm, collected speech, but to me it was rushed and chaotic, a torrent of puzzle pieces that scattered around the table, all fitting themselves in perfectly to the carefully placed pieces we had acquired during our time here. Stories of God's will and benevolence, the origins of the world, the true place of the NPC's that dotted the landscapes. Each word that left his lips was a blow to my side, and soon I held up a hand, halting him mid-sentence.

"Ah." He mused, stroking his chin. "You wonder about this 'love', yes? The very emotion that is disallowed in this world?"

Love, disallowed? To deny love is to deny human emotion at its base!

"Not so." The figure continued. Dammit, he was reading my mind? "What, Yuri, is love to you? There are many ways to find this world. Regret and unhappiness, remorse, or perhaps hatred; all may lead to this 'normal' world."

He smirked. "Some are drawn by love, this is true. There are those in your group that were drawn here for this very reason."

I frowned, in thought. Nobody in the brigade ever spoke of a love. Could he be referring to Kanade? She and Otanashi were close...

"There are many kinds of love in this world" the man continued, breaking me from my train of thought. "Love for a field, a building, perhaps. Love for the gardens in the meadow, or perhaps a particular subject in class."

He chuckled, an action that seemed too human for this...thing. "But gardens and subjects can be found anywhere and everywhere, in this world and the realm of the living. There is no shortage of rolling fields and places of study for us to indulge that 'love.'

His eyes grew dark, obscured by the bangs of his black hair. "But there are kinds of love that can be found only in once place, at one time. These kinds of love are brought about by the simple rule of chance, drawn by the forces of fate, or perhaps circumstance."

What is he talking about? I'm half tempted just to put a bullet in his head and-

"Remember Takamatsu?"

I froze. How could he know about that?

"It's a shame, what happened."He said, placing no emphasis on sarcasm nor remorse; I couldn't tell what he was implying. "Shame he had to..._die_, so soon. But the shadows found him an easy target: a warning, you might say. His loss may be forgotten with the passing of time, but I'm sure you felt the responsibility for his passing?"

I nodded slowly, my gun hand shaking. What was he...?

"You loved him, did you not?"

I froze. What? Me and Takamatsu? There was no way that...!

"Ah, you misunderstand. That is normal, I must say." He looked around, and suddenly, the monitors around me changed colors. Instantly, images of every single brigade member, past and present, appeared on the screens lining the room. The images were never taken by photograph, and yet here they were: Iwasawa with her guitar in the practice room, Yui with a peace sign and a water bucket balanced on her head outside of class, Otanashi, canned coffee in hand, staring out from the Gymnasium rooftop. They were all there: Hinata, Shiina, Takamatsu. All of them.

"Tell me, Yuri. What would you give for your friends? What would you do to ensure their safety?"

That was easy. Anything. Anything at all. That's why I was here!

Sensing my thoughts, the figure smiled. "I see. Their freedom. Freedom from an unforgiving God, in an unforgiving world. Simple, yet...difficult to reach."

The monitors changed again, and my face paled. Every member of the brigade was now in the official school uniform, the original Brigade's uniform having completely vanished. The smiles on their faces, their eyes that were full of energy were now nothing but soulless husks. Their locations were noticeably different as well; every one of them was stationed in a classroom, diligently reading or jotting down God knows what.

They were gone. I dropped to my knees, shocked by the sudden change.

"This will happen." the figure said, smiling all the while. "In the end, one by one, they will succumb to the shadows. So long as you and your new found 'love' is here, this will continue to happen."

I looked at him in confusion.

"That's right, Yuri. This love I refer to is not that material love of gardens and classrooms that I spoke of before. This is a fated love, and yet it is a love that is never meant to happen. This place...this very world, would be an eternal paradise. Eden, you would call it in the living world. We cannot allow such things to come to pass. Reality awaits everyone; nobody is exempt."

"Then why force us out?" I shouted, feeling my emotions begin to crack. "Why take the happiness we were supposed to find and crumble it into dust?"

"Truly, if a life cannot find happiness in the months spent in perfection, is that life truly worth living?" The man countered. "You must find your own happiness. And if such happiness cannot be found, or perhaps, doesn't exist, then there is no point in continuing...is there not?"

"Then why deny love? Why deny human emotion?"

"Vanishing is only the first step, child. To find love is to never want to leave. Love creates the paradise, does it not? These shadows-" he motioned around the room- "Are the cure to the disease of love. Perhaps in the world of the living it has its place, but there is no place for such emotions here."

The being closed his eyes, seemingly deep in though, and I couldn't help but feel that my mind was being invaded by...something. Him, most likely.

"Ah..." the being relaxed. "You do agree, it seems. After all, was your life not the definition of perfection until that...incident?"

Memories immediately flooded back to me; my family, my friends, and most importantly, my siblings. Suddenly, everything we did up to that point did seem like perfection, The large house, the acres of rolling fields, the time spent together...was that not love? Was that not...Utopia?"

"Then..." I mumbled. "This...this is the same thing."

"What is?" the being asked, cocking his head to the side.

For a moment, I didn't answer. Here he was, the mystery figure that seemed to be behind the shadows, behind...everything, telling me to get everyone out before their fate is decided for them, in true death. What was I to believe? The morals we followed since we came here, or the words of someone I just met, not ten minutes beforehand?

The man spoke up again. "Tell me, Yuri, can you find their freedom? Can you find what you deem most valuable, and bring it to them...before they die?"

On the outside, my gun hand was still shaking, and our eyes were still locked. Inside my mind, however, I was far from seeing the man in front of me. Gone was the almost serene expression of a seemingly young man, and replacing his features was a burly man, his hair obscuring his face. One hand held a 9mm pistol, the other a bloodstained lock of hair. Even through the blood, I could tell who's hair it was.

Mine.

Just as I snapped my gun's iron sights to my face, the illusion vanished, leaving the man from before, his expression completely unchanged.

It was as if I could see him in a new light. He, the seeming-God of this world, was holding the gun to my friends. The shadows- the many guns that lined the walls and floors and ceilings of the school, swarming for living flesh- held at the heads of my family. And here he was, giving me the choice; find what is valuable and live, or watch my friends die, one by one.

The burly man appeared once more, and suddenly, I understood.

The shaking in my hand stopped, and without hesitation I snapped the gun up to my eyes, fighting the urge to laugh at the simplicity of it all. Releasing the safety, I aimed directly at the man, who merely cocked his head in curiosity.

"You...you're God. Aren't you."

"What do you mean?" The man asked, chuckling. "I am no God. I hold no infinite power, nor omnipotence."

"But you hold the power to this world." I countered. "You put lives under your boot, send the shadows after us. Perhaps you hold no sway anywhere else, but here..." I released the bolt, feeling a single bullet slide into the chamber- "Here, you are truly God."

"Am I? And what power would I hold, Yuri? Power over shadows? Power over the very fabric of this world? You know as well as I do that I, me, myself...hold no such power."

"But you're the cause of all this!"

"The cause? Here and now, perhaps." The man replied. "But causes can be 'caused' by anyone. You, me, Otanashi...anyone and everyone has the power to 'cause' something. But a God doesn't 'cause'. Tell me, Yuri, what does a God do?"

That threw me off guard. God was the reason, the cause, the purpose of everything we did!

Seemingly sensing my thoughts once more, the man interrupted me. "And where did such ideals get you, Yuri? Who was your opponent throughout your little campaign?"

"Ange-" I almost shouted, but caught myself. After a moment's resignation, I whispered: "Kanade."

"Ah...a name." The man replied, smiling. "Do Angels have names? Do they feel emotion?"

Before I could answer, he held up a hand. "You should know, Yuri. You should know...that none of us know."

"Then who is God?" I asked, returning to the original question at hand. His roundabout way of 'answering' questions was getting on my nerves. "You claim power, but claim no godhood. Which one is it?"

"You are right, I claim no godhood. But I claim the means to use that godhood. I possess the means of utilizing omnipotence and power to my advantage. Does that make me God?"

"Of course not. You may have the means to control this world, but you lack the power to manipulate the living world, or any theoretical world that may come to pass."

"And what does that change about my standing in this world?" The man shifted his position, leaning back in his chair farther. He seemed very amused by our conversation. "In any other place I may be but a mere human, but here, I am God."

"You...are the God, of only this world?"

"You expected god to have unlimited potential?" The man asked, laughing. "I only possess the means of power here. As such, I am only God here. The logic fits, no?"

I found myself reluctantly agreeing. "Then...God relies on tools as well?" I gestured at the computers lining the walls for emphasis.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Truly, what is a tool without it's owner? Is it the formidable powerhouse that we acclaim it to be, or just a sack of paperweights, waiting for a use?" He gestured toward the gun in my hands. "Take your gun, for example. A fantastic tool, a great source of strength and power. Imagine the many things you ca do, what you have done with this fantastic weapon!" He was beginning to sound more like a preacher, less like the calm, collected person I just met.

"Take away the gun, and all we have is the girl with a dream and mission, without the means to carry it out save her words and her desires, which holds no sway in this utopic world. And then-" he gestured towards my gun once more- "we have your gun; the means to your success, the tool that has gotten you past the shadows, past what should have brought you down. But without you, what would this gun be? Where would it be, Yuri? Within the piles of dirt lining the walls of your...Old Guild, perhaps?"

"Yin and Yang..." I muttered. Slowly, the pieces were beginning to fall into place. "Then you...you only possess the means of power, and the methods to control it. Take one away, and the other cannot work."

"Exactly." The man stated, his calm voice having returned. "Your human concept of religion covers the very same principles. An imperfect race creating a perfect being. But in the end, your God is not perfect or benevolent because the God you created is not the ideal being envisioned within your holy scriptures, but a different being entirely."

The pieces, scattered and slowly forming, seemed to click all at once. No, there was no perfect being. There was no 'one god' to rule them all. There were only those with the desire for power, and the means to attain it.

As if it were without my permission, my memories brought me back to that fateful day that turned my world upside down. But instead of the burly, heavily tattooed man, all I saw was the boy from the computer room.

"The means of power...the desire to attain it...in this situation, am I not the God you so despise?"

"_You!"_

Without warning, I lunged at him, the reminder that this was a memory all but forgotten. As soon as my fist made contact with is body, however, the image vanished, and I was suddenly back in the computer room.

Silence reigned for several seconds before the man began to slowly applaud, a broad smile now adorning his features. "Well done...as I am God now, there have been Gods before me. Those who wrote these programs, these fail-safes, those who tried to abuse them, and those who tried to shut them down."

The man looked directly in my eyes. "You know the secret now. You now know how to be God."

He gestured around the room. "Now, what will you do with this power?"

The laugh that threatened to escape my throat before came rearing back tenfold, and my quiet chuckling soon turned into full-blown, maniacal cackling. Were anyone else watching, they perhaps would have thought I had gone insane.

Not so. It was just so simple now.

Shifting my submachine gun to one hand, I drew my final pistol, knowing it would take a lot of bullets to get what I wanted to done.

"And what is your choice, Yuri?" the man repeated. "What will you do with your power?"

I looked him dead in the eye, feeling the mild connection I had with him vanishing with every passing second. Without a second glance, I raised both arms, aiming the guns at the monitors that lined the wall. God's machines. God's will.

God itself? No. But perhaps a part of him.

"I'm doing what I always meant to do."

The man merely smiled. "And that is?"

It made so much sense now. Cutting off only the head of the snake kills the whole snake, after all.

"Simple." I chuckled, settling into a firing position. "I'm killing God."

* * *

><p><em>The pain, the darkness<em>

_trapped in one's heart, unmoving_

_flees to the singe motes_

_of light; a new hope._

* * *

><p>Was I...in the right?<p>

God is dead. God no longer exists in this world; he no longer has the power to do so. His machines, his very source of power is nothing but a distant memory.

But it came at a price. For lost in that distant memory are the friends and family I once had. Their sacrifice gave us the answers needed to take him down. I can only hope that what Otanashi said was true. That they were now truly at peace, alive, living their new lives, free from the oppression that brought them here in the first place.

Perhaps...perhaps its time I joined them. After all, my purpose is done, for this world, at least. Am I fulfilled? Hardly. My family is still dead, the memories of their bloodstained bodies is still fresh in my mind.

And yet...that no longer bothers me. Perhaps it's because I can't do anything about it. Or perhaps its because now I know what to do about it.

That mans' words still linger in my mind. About how anyone can be God, with the right tools, being in the right place at the right time. Perhaps it is that I must strive against; those that wish to become God. After all, it was not _god_ that killed my family, just _a _god.

Perhaps that was all that mattered.

Enough talk. My family is without their leader.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter End.<strong>

* * *

><p>Yeesh, this was a tough one.<p> 


End file.
